


Last Christmas

by Charmedxdangerous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmedxdangerous/pseuds/Charmedxdangerous
Summary: This is my first fanfic that I've published in maybe ten years. It was not beta'd by anyone, so you're gonna have to live with the mistakes. I just had my old Narcissa character wanting to have her final story written, so I had to do it.I don't own ANY of these characters, but Queen Rowling does. I could never steal from her.





	Last Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> It probably makes sense to nobody but me. Sorry bout it. I also suck at endings.
> 
> I don't own ANY of these characters, but Queen Rowling does. I could never steal from her.

The snow had just started to fall, but it had already begun to cloak the English countryside in white. The streets were silent, but they always had been in this part of the world. It was why this home had been such a cherished commodity when the Dark Lord had returned. The neighbors had most likely suspected, but their lives were worth more to them than making complaints about having a few unsavory sorts moving about.

As Fenrir looked up at the dimly lit exterior of Malfoy manor, he could hear few heartbeats in the home. The Malfoy’s had been pariahs before, not now, after the execution of Draco Malfoy, the remaining members of the family had no reputation left to speak of. Lucius and Narcissa had gone into seclusion, leaving Scorpius and Astoria to their own devices. 

It was because of the Greengrass branch of the family that he found himself darkening the doorstep of Malfoy manor once again. It was his obsession, his unbridled need, for Astoria that drove him. She was he first thing he had yearned for since he had become the god he was now. This passion had even begun to outweigh his need for the tender flesh of the young. Knowing that Draco’s death had laid clear a path for him, the wolf knew he had to prove himself to the woman who had begun to haunt his dreams. He could smell her sweet perfume even now, tempting and teasing him. 

Everyone in the wizarding world had heard about Narcissa’s outburst in the courtroom on the day of her son’s execution. It was expected that she would rage and scream for the death of her child, but no one had expected that she would point the finger of accusation at her own daughter-in-law. Many assumed her claims were based in the anguish of a mother that had lost her only son, but only a few knew the truth.

So he was here to ensure that the truth remained buried. Narcissa had nothing left. Her own grandson, whom she had doted on in much the same way she had her son, had turned his back on her. His love for his own mother, and disinterest in his father, had made it an easy severance for the young boy. All that remained to her was her home and her idiot of a husband. He couldn’t be sure what she knew, but he would make sure that it never saw the light of day. 

Entering the home was easy. Almost as If the protection charms had been lowered to make his passing easier. Delicate Christmas lights shone through the house, but they seemed as frozen as ice. There was no more love left in this home, that much was clear. It had gone the moment the final blow to Draco had been dealt. He wished he had been the one to take the Slytherin’s life, to feel his life blood slipping over his claws as he looked down at the young man whose world he had taken.  
There was no one in the foyer as he made his way up the grandiose staircase, not even a house elf to stop him. His steps were near silent as he made his way towards Narcissa’s scent. What might have once been tantalizing now had an underlining smell of pain and age, things she would have been unable to hide no matter how hard she tried. He pushed the bedroom door open and looked at the swanlike neck of the older woman, seated at her vanity as if preparing for an evening out. 

“Hello Narcissa,” He spoke softly, his voice sounding unused and grinding, “Thanks so much for my Christmas feast.” He licked the blood of the famous white peacocks that decorated her spacious yard from his laws, grinning at her while covered in blood. He had hopes to scare her, to make her heart pound in her chest as she struggled to begged for her life. They always tasted better that way.  
****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
It wasn’t even that she knew he was there before he stepped into her bedroom. No, Narcissa did not have some eerie sort of six sense. She had just expected it of him. She had been allowed to sit and wait idly for far too long. Now just seemed like the right time for all the waiting to end. 

She sat stiffly, her hands adjusting her diamond drop earrings as she waited for him to move closer. She knew what it felt like to be the prey for a much larger beast, so this was no different. She felt his hand drop to her shoulder, a jolt flowing through her at the contact. 

“I’m sure you didn’t expect this,” She heard him say, but she did not respond. He was wrong. She had expected it. Daphne had foreshadowed it, as had Scorpius and a few others proceeding the trial. She hadn’t care for their warning, and had let her anguish consume her until she was past her limits. Astoria’s revenge was to be exacted and in the most splendid way. 

His rough hands pulled her up from her chair and a macabre smile briefly crossed her lips. Lucius was upstairs, hanging about idly while the woman he had once placed great value on was seconds away from meeting her end. It seemed he wouldn’t have the quiet night that he had wished for, but at least he would no longer be shackled in a marriage that neither of them had been able to escape for some time now. 

She accepted what was to happen. No matter how long it took, and how pain it might be, the end was result would still be the same. Her only regret would be that she had never had the opportunity to repair things with her grandson. The boy who looked so much like his father made her heart ache. She glanced down at the letter on her table, Scorpius’ name written in her slanted script. He would inherit everything she had to give, and carry on the name Black in his blood, even if it wasn’t in his heart. Many would be shocked to find another letter written to Teddy placed beside it. She would never be able to repair the relationship she had shared with Andromeda, but she couldn’t help herself from reaching out to the young man on her last day. 

“Are you going to run for me?” She heard him ask as his hands caressed her throat like they would a lover. 

“Run for you, Fenrir?” This was the first time she had addressed him directly in her life. It would have been a momentous occasion if things had been different. “Why should I run when I know that no matter where I go, you will find me?” She should her head almost sadly, “No. I would rather we end this façade as quickly as possible, so that you may go on with your night. It is Christmas, after all.”

She leaned forward and collected the matching earring she had left on her vanity, placing it in its proper place. “Did you know that when Draco was younger, we would spend every Christmas together? We would sit by the fireplace, opening presents and sharing stories. It was just the two of us,” She spoke wistfully, “It will be lovely to do that again.”  
She dropped her hands to her sides and considered the mirror before her. The age had begun to show many moons ago, but now she could no longer ignore the slow creep of time. She had been a great beauty once, but life had been far too hard as of late. Just behind her, a force that could not be missed, stood in wait, ready to rip her youthful spirit from its earthly trappings. Fenrir was everlasting while she had so little time left. 

“This isn’t the time for reminiscing and wishing though, is it?” She straightened her spine, using her full height, and dredging up as much of her remaining grace as she could, “Merry Christmas, Fenrir. I hope you get your holiday wishes.  
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
It was far from what he had expected. He had always known the Malfoy’s to be the cowardly sort, but, then again, he had only dealt with the men. It seemed that Narcissa had far more of her Black blood line in her than he had expected. A part of him admired her spirit, but he knew it was far too late for that. 

His fingers closed around her throat as he looked at her in the mirror, her eyes shone with defiance. “Pretty last words,” He hissed, “But not enough to save you.”

It was quick. She deserved that much. His claws sunk into her flesh so easily and it tore apart like gossamer fibers. He only heard the softest of gasps before she was still, sinking into his arms, her blood splattering across the vanity, leaving stains on the letters that had been so carefully written. 

He placed her on the floor and stepped back to survey his work. They would find her like that, most likely in the morning. It didn’t seem as if Lucius had shared the same space in some time, so he most likely would sleep through the night not knowing that he was the only Malfoy left in the manor. She would more than likely be found by house elves, and then there would be a quiet and poorly attended funeral. 

He left as quietly as he came in, knowing that his duty was done.


End file.
